


Seafoam

by chibiwriter



Category: Pokemon GO
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Gen, Little Mermaid Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 12:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11036271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibiwriter/pseuds/chibiwriter
Summary: “Reckless,” Blanche said coldly, “You always were.”“Oh, do me a favor and find another pot’s shade to comment on,” Noire hissed, “I do so tire of you discussing mine,bouilloire.”





	Seafoam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Turkborne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turkborne/gifts).



> Hans Christian Andersen is a man after my own heart - please do yourself a favor and read [the original text](http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_merma.html).

_Fifteen years ago…_

They sprinted down the street, panting hard with a hand clutching the bottom of their too-large tunic. It was raining, large drops falling from dark, rumbling clouds and hitting the cobblestones in a perfect staccato. Even still, the sounds of angry voices could be heard in the distance, growing further away as they ducked into small alcove after small alcove.

Noire ran until the disjointed shouts faded away, taking the back alleys and ducking through the unused portions of gardens to avoid the main road. They climbed a rickety trellis, ivy growing thick on the old iron frame, to the roof of a decrepit building. There was a boarded up entrance on the top of the structure, which they opened and dropped into, replacing the covering quickly so as to shut out the downpour.

The inside of the room was pitch black, but it mattered little. They knew the way. Still panting, they found the stairs and climbed down from the ancient storage area. Dust clung to every inch of the place, broken, empty shelves lining their path having been looted long ago for their precious contents.

The soft glow of a fire drew their eye and they made their way toward it, a frown forming on their face as they saw their sibling sitting up in their nest of rags, a thick tome taking up the majority of their lap (and then some).

“You’re late,” Blanche said in greeting, their voice raspy and cracking. Noire’s frown deepened when the other broke down into a fit of coughing, though it had become admittedly better since they’d found this abandoned library to hunker down in. Last week the fits rattled in their chest, thick and clogging, and their breathing overall had been unsteady, sleep coming only in short bursts from which they would awake with glazed eyes and a feverish brow.

Noire was by their side in an instant and pressing a worn clay mug against their lips, the acrid smell of cooled herbs making both of their noses wrinkle. Still, they’d been lucky to find that soft-heart apothecary’s apprentice. The medicine would’ve been harder to get otherwise.

“What took you so long?” Blanche asked once their breathing returned to normal, looking up at them with suspicious eyes, “You weren’t thieving again, were you?”

“Hey, if the drunken fools in Sally’s bar forget to keep one eye on their purses, it’s no skin off my nose!” Noire retorted, letting Blanche take the mug with their own hands so they could gesture nonchalantly.

“No, but it could be your hands in an officer’s satchel if you’re not careful,” their twin grumbled, looking down at their mug peevishly. They inhaled sharply and drained it quickly, setting the mug down beside them with a disgusted expression.

“Look, you fussed at me last time for stealing food. How else am I to feed us? No one wants to hire a pair of brats like us during the stormy season, anyway.” When there was no reply Noire sighed and lifted their tunic, slipping the pastry they’d stashed in there out with a dramatic flair. They dropped it on top of the book in their twin’s lap, settling down beside them with little ceremony.

Blanche jerked, lifting it quickly with one hand as the other brushed away any and all of the crumbs that had exploded over the pages. They then studied the offering, tongue flicking out to moisten their lips instinctively. “Where did you get this?” they asked, hesitant.

“Old lady Marie,” Noire replied, “Her new _pâtissier_ is a grade-A piece of shit and fucked up an entire order for a noblewoman. So she bitched at him and threw the whole tray out the back. Don’t worry, though, I caught that one before it touched the ground.”

“And the others?” Blanche asked, looking at them with discerning eyes, “Did you get one for yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me, _mon chou_ ,” Noire said, waving a hand as they sprawled out on the ground, turning on their side and propping their head up with a hand, “You eat it.”

Their twin frowned, squinting at them in the dim light of their little shelf-board fire. “That’s hardly fair, Noire.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is _too_ ,” Noire said firmly, “If you like it, then it’s worth it. So quick stalling and eat the damn thing already!”

“No,” Blanche replied tartly, “We’re splitting it and that’s final!” They took the pastry in both hands and ripped it apart, crumbs falling like a little golden shower down into their lap and cascading into the nest of threadbare blankets and random pieces of clothing. They each grimaced, knowing the waste the action caused but neither choosing to speak of it.

“You’re such a pain!” Noire complained, scowling up at Blanche, “Why can’t you just thank me and get on with it?”

“Because it’s not fair!” Blanche protested, shoving one half at Noire, “And you know it!”

Noire glared at the flaky pastry, ignoring how their stomach clenched and their mouth watered at just the sight. They could still recall the fresh scent it had had when Noire had first caught it. They could also recall the ache of one of Martin’s hooligans’ fists hitting their ribs as the motley scavengers had descended on the treats as soon as Noire had. They’d been lucky to escape with one to call their own and only a few bruises to show for it.

“I don’t know where you’re getting all this ‘fair’ bullshit,” they grumbled, “Life hasn’t been fair to either of us, so why bother with it?”

“Because,” their twin said, adopting a lofty tone. “I can’t, in good conscious, accept this gift without giving you something of equal value in return because I know how hard you worked to get it. Not to mention it’s the right thing to do. It shows good moral character and a strong sense of self. ”

“Says who?” Noire asked with a sneer.

“The heroes of old,” Blanche replied, inclining their head to the book in their lap.

Noire studied the tome bitterly, mouth twisted into an unhappy frown. The orphanage they’d been raised at hadn’t had any teachers, but through the years they’d learned basic letters. Made it easier to live life on the run when you knew that you wouldn’t be arrested immediately for ducking into some jewelry shop or which shops allowed scamps to loiter in front of their entrances to beg for coins.

Since squatting in the library, Blanche’s appetite for literature had only been expanded by their illness forcing them to spend their days in solitude. They poured over the dusty books they were able to scavenge, treating their musty, sometimes moldy pages as though they were made of gold. Often when Noire returned from carousing in the outside world for the day, they had accumulated several grand tales from their many hours of reading and was more than willing to share their newfound knowledge.

Not that they couldn’t read the stories on their own, of course, but they loved the sound of their twin’s voice.

“You know what,” Noire drawled finally, an idea sparking in their mind, “How about this: you tell me a story and we’ll call it square. Deal?”

“That’s still not-”

“It’s either that or nothing, Blanche. You know I won’t accept anything else.”

Blanche scowled at them for a moment then nodded slowly. “Fine,” they said stiffly, “I’ll tell you a story. Any requests?”

“Tell me a fairytale,” they said, finally taking their half of the pastry out of their twin’s hand, “Something with the sea.” Noire then shoved the treat into their mouth without a second thought, almost groaning how the buttery, flaky bread seemed to melt down their throat. They watched as Blanche mimicked their motion, enjoying their obvious pleasure at the taste almost more than their own.

“A fairytale about the sea, huh…” Blanche said slowly, carefully wiping the crumbs off their mouth and licking their fingers clean as they thought. Their lips spread into a large grin and they leaned over Noire to snatch a thin novel from the pile on the other side of them, setting the large book off to the side in favor of their new interest. “This one’s a translated tale from a far off nation, but I think it fits your specifications perfectly, _mon chou_.”

“Oh?” Noire said, tossing another board onto their little fire to keep it fed before getting comfortable against Blanche’s side, “Let’s hear it then.”

“Very well,” they said, sitting straighter and raising an arm so that Noire could tuck themselves against their side and peer down at the pages, “This is the story known in its homeland as ‘ _Den lille havfrue_ ’, and though there are several translations of this text that slightly alter the meaning, the story itself remains mostly the same: _Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep; so deep, indeed, that no cable could fathom it: many church steeples, piled one upon another, would not reach from the ground beneath to the surface of the water above…_ ”

 

 

 

_Ten years ago…_

“Noire, will you _just-_ ”

They slammed the door behind them, rattling the small shack entirely. Noire tugged off their boots impatiently and threw them against the wall, almost hitting their twin when Blanche finally managed to open the door. They flopped onto their cot and turned away from the other, glaring holes into the rough wood that made up the sides of their abode. The cracks between the boards were wide enough little slivers of the sun’s dying rays could be seen, and that alone only served to worsen their mood.

“Noire,” Blanche tried again, voice softer now so as to not get the landlord of the tenement on their backs (again) as they tugged off their own boots and lined them up properly near the door, “Please. Don’t be angry with me. Not now.”

“Why?” Noire hissed, hackles rising as their shoulders hunched, “ _Why_ did you agree to it? How _could_ you?!”

“It was the only way to get you out of there!” Blanche snapped, pacing, “You were heading for the _gallows_ , Noire! I told you - several times, in fact! - that consorting with those low-life ruffians that play at being sailors would get you into trouble. And I was right!”

“You don’t know _shit!_ ” Noire argued, sitting up so they could glare at their twin properly, “We had a plan! I was gonna lure the guards off while they stole what we needed and then all of us were going to meet up and-”

“Don’t be a fool, _mon chou_. You’re better than that!” they said, rounding on them, “Those cowards ran off and left you to take the fall! If I hadn’t agreed to take a commission on Admiral Willow’s ship, you would be floating belly-up in the bay right now!”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Blanche!” they hissed, standing and marching over to their twin with bare feet, “That’s not the only reason you took the commission and we both know it. Last month you were swooning about the importance of his ‘great mission’ to study the migration of glowing whales or what-the-fuck-ever and you’ve been salivating to get your hands on a copy of his charter for the next voyage ever since they decided to dock here last week to resupply.”

“Admiral Willow’s research is not-” Blanche cut themselves off, throwing up their hands in frustration, “Ugh, it doesn’t matter. You don’t care!”

“You’re right, I don’t give a rat’s ass about that stuffy prick,” Noire growled, “But I _do_ care about you! How could you abandon me like this, Blanche? I know what we have isn’t much, but isn’t it enough that we’re together? It used to be, at least…”

Blanche reacted as if their twin’s words had struck them physically, recoiling with a pained expression. They looked away from Noire, their stark white hair falling into their face and obscuring their eyes. Both of their breaths were heavy and an aching silence descended for a handful of moments while they struggled to collect themselves.

The twins both craved things they could rarely obtain, though their goals differed in recent years.

Noire, well, they desired fine things and power - richness in life that could only be afforded by the very wealthy or the very lucky. Stealing was not anything new to them, and stealing for the sake of providing for their twin was almost second nature at this point, despite the danger and the many, many protests. They lied, stole, and cheated with little remorse and little concern for the consequences.

When one lived like every day was one’s last, one didn’t put a lot of stock in ‘what ifs’ as time was better spent providing for the moment.

Blanche, by comparison, seemed drawn to more immaterial things. Knowledge, understanding, evolution. They snuck into lectures, listened to speeches, and visited the city library so often it was almost like a second home. They were obsessed with the future, charting stars and studying the sea until patterns arose and, when they connected them and put the phenomena to paper, they became a savant scholar.

One could only be filled with a brilliant, burning desire to live to see the next day from the moment one faced one’s own mortality.

“Like it or not, there’s no changing it now, Noire,” they said finally, softly, voice brittle, “What’s done is done. If I don’t board that ship in three days’ time, they’ll come for me and throw you into the gallows regardless.” The words hung in the air, heavy with regret, sagging under a yet-unnamed emotion that bordered on resentment.

Then Blanche turned on their heel and walked off, slipping out onto the small balcony so as to climb up onto the roof. Noire was left staggering in their wake, throat tight and eyes burning in the face of such epic futility. They strode over to Blanche’s cot, fingers itching for something to throw, to destroy, and it only seemed natural to take it out on an object that did not belong to them personally. Something was tucked under their twin’s pillow, poorly, and when they lifted it they froze.

A pale blue cover stared mockingly up at them, the imprint of some slender-tailed figure with long, flowing hair lightly carved in the cover. The leather was faded and the pages yellowed with age, but the thin novel showed years of tender care and gentle, continuous use.

Noire flipped the book open with numb fingers, eyes tracing the letters with distant fondness as they read a passage their twin had ever so carefully underlined.

‘ _… Nothing gave her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the sea. She made her old grandmother tell her all she knew of the ships and of the towns, the people and the animals. To her it seemed most wonderful and beautiful to hear that the flowers of the land should have fragrance, and not those below the sea; that the trees of the forest should be green; and that the fishes among the trees could sing so sweetly, that it was quite a pleasure to hear them. Her grandmother called the little birds fishes, or she would not have understood her; for she had never seen birds._

 _“When you have reached your fifteenth year,” said the grandmother, “you will have permission to rise up out of the sea, to sit on the rocks in the moonlight, while the great ships are sailing by; and then you will see both forests and towns.”_ ’

They scowled, heartsick as they read the passage again, the words sliding through their mind and sticking in odd places, caught on the vestiges of too many emotions to count.

‘ _Nothing gave her so much pleasure as to hear about the world above the sea._ ’

The whole situation was an impossible mess. Blanche was a fool to try and save them. Noire didn’t need saving in the first place! They’d been fine and their friends, the ‘ruffians’, definitely would’ve met them at the meeting place. They would’ve-

‘“ _When you have reached your fifteenth year,” said the grandmother, “you will have permission to rise up out of the sea-_ ’

Everything would be fine. Noire could take their place on Willow’s ship and then find a way to sneak off at the earliest convenience. Shouldn’t take more than a month, maybe two. Blanche could stay here in the meantime, where it was _safe_ , and then-

‘ _When you have reached your fifteenth year-_ ’

Noire swallowed and shut the book, breathing harshly as they tucked it carefully back under the pillow. They strode over to their cot and sat down carefully, running a hand through their hair as the tears at last started to fall.

‘ _When the sisters rose, arm-in-arm, through the water in this way, their youngest sister would stand quite alone, looking after them, ready to cry, only that the mermaids have no tears, and therefore they suffer more. “Oh, were I but fifteen years old,” said she: “I know that I shall love the world up there, and all the people who live in it.”_ ’

 

 

 

_Five years ago…_

Noire stood in the back of the crowd, the hood of their cloak pulled low over their face as they watched the proceedings from the shadows. In their hand they clutched a letter, the parchment rent with creases from numerous rereadings. A stage had been erected near the port and the large plaza that led out to the sea was filled to the brim with people from all walks of life.

Finding passage on a boat had been hard, and resulted in making some deals that would be difficult to slide out of later. Harder still was watching their beloved twin, so much taller now since the last they had spoken, be sworn to the service of the aristocracy.

‘ _“But think again,” said the witch; “for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father’s palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves.”_ ’

Noire grimaced and turned away, ducking down a dark alley and striding away from the chorus of cheering and jubilation. So what if a new captain had been added to the fleet? So what if they promised to clear the seas of the loathsome pirate scum that so frequently attacked merchant ships, weighed down with the spoils of their rich masters.

“You see ‘em?” Amelie asked, seeming to slide out of their shadow just one block away from the event.

“Yes, I did,” they replied, words clipped even as they slowed down enough for her to walk beside them. They were annoyed that she would even ask, but the irritation at her served as a welcome distraction from the agony that was swirling in their chest, attempting to claw up their throat in the moment they opened their mouth to continue, “You have a good time?”

Her answering grin was bright and she shook three large purses at them gleefully. They blinked in surprise when she tossed one of them at their chest, barely managing to catch it.

“What-”

“It was pathetically obvious that you were too distracted during the proceedings to actually do your job, so I took the liberty of _liberating_ an extra for you,” she said, waving off their quizzical expression, “Oh, don’t look at me like that! You’d have done the same for me. Besides, I don’t want to be weighed down if it comes to a matter of fight or flight.”

Noire snorted, rolling their eyes and tucking the heavy coin purse into their belt before tugging their cloak forward, obscuring it from view. “What about that third one?”

“Oh, you know,” she said vaguely, a fond smile on her lips as she sighed, rolling a coin between her fingers in an impressive display of idle dexterity, “Since we’re here, I might pay our favorite apothecary-turned-blacksmith a visit.”

The grin they gave her was positively roguish. “Need to get some _grinding_ done? Perhaps you have a dent that needs some _pounding_ , hm?” They received a punch to the arm for their teasing.

“More like ‘I need to get a new set of daggers because _someone_ can’t seem to stay out of trouble for more than five minutes’,” she replied with a snort, using her one good eye to pin them with a glare, “What’s with you, huh? You convinced the captain this city would be ripe for the plunder - which, granted, it _is_ thanks to this ceremony - just for the chance to see your twin, and then you don’t even talk to them?”

Noire’s buoyant mood vanished immediately and they scowled, looking away from their companion and refusing to answer as they rounded a corner that took them closer to their destination. Against all their wishes, a deep, unceasing bitterness brewed within them, exceeded only by the love and anguish that existed in equal parts in their heart when they thought of their twin.

‘ _“Do you not love me the best of them all?” the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed her fair forehead._

 _“Yes, you are dear to me,” said the prince; “for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again…”_ ’

 

 

 

_Now…_

The storm raged, two ships locked in a deadly firefight as the sea heaved and frothed around them, decks swaying in the maelstrom as wave after wave pounded against each of the ships’ hulls, striking the wood like the fist of some angry god. The rain fell in a thick sheet - yet even that could not quell the fires that had spread across much of the aft, flames burning brightly in the gloom.

In the middle of their own ship, deaf to the shouts and canon-fire going off all around them, Noire stared at their twin. Blanche glared at them in equal parts poison and dismay, sword drawn and pointed at that chest. A thin cut bled on their right cheek, matching the gash on Noire’s left shoulder.

“Reckless,” Blanche said coldly, “You always were.”

“Oh, do me a favor and find another pot’s shade to comment on,” Noire hissed, “I do so tire of you discussing mine, _bouilloire._ ”

Blanche sneered at them, their ponytail swinging sluggishly despite the fierce wind, bangs plastered to their face and ruining the effect of their venomous expression. Noire longed to walk over and embrace them, to push the unruly hair out of their eyes and kiss their cheek. They knew, of course, that Blanche’s saber would find a new sheath between their ribs the moment they took their first step, so they refrained.

Their own blade already felt heavy in their hand, its edge stained with their twin’s blood.

‘ _“We have given our hair to the witch,” said they, “to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish’s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salty sea foam…”_ ’

“Did you know?” Blanche asked, the two of them beginning to circle one another again as another volley of cannon fire split the night, “Did you attack this ship because you knew I was charged with defending it? That we would be forced to fight?”

“Not everything I do revolves around you.”

Blanche tilted their head, a coy smile twitching on their lips as they asked mockingly, “Doesn’t it?”

Caution fell away as Noire sprang at them with a growl, steel meeting steel as Blanche readily deflected the blow. They danced across the slippery wood planks of the deck, retreating and attacking equal measure as salt water sloshed around their boots. Their swords met, metal ringing in their ears as they glared at one another, teeth bared in matching, feral grins, harsh breaths fanning each other’s faces in the few seconds they stood close before they broke apart.

Crashing against one another over and over again, like waves on the beach.

Speaking of waves-

“Boss!”

Noire whirled away from their twin at Amelie’s scream, eyes wild, distantly registering the fact that Blanche’s second-in-command (What was her name? Andromeda? Anora? Oh, right, _Annie_.) had gotten the other’s attention in much the same manner. They both became aware that everyone, men and women on both sides, were screaming in fear and rushing to one side of the deck.

Lighting split the sky, illuminating the darkness in a way the fires could not, and Noire suddenly understood why - a colossal wave greeted them, stretching almost, it seemed, to the heavens.

Their twin looked over at them, pale in the firelight, precious seconds wasted at Noire studied the sheer terror reflected in their green eyes. They both scrambled to the mast, losing their footing as the ship began to tilt upward with the swell of dark water. Blanche reached it first, snagging a rope as the world truly began to turn at an outrageous angle, and Noire hastened to follow their lead.

People screamed as they were flung from the deck, boxes and canons flying through the air and falling into the ocean. The twins hung suspended in the air, almost perfectly parallel to the deck, and watched the sailors and pirates alike streak past and disappear into the night. The other ship, the one Blanche had been tasked with defending, was too heavy to rise with the water and was rolled immediately, the sound of wood splintering groaning into the night and the mast collapsing with a harsh _‘crack’_ as the people onboard were thrown into the sea.

There was a horrifying _‘snap’_ , barely heard over the roar of the rain and the howling of the wind, and suddenly Noire was falling. Their descent was halted when an arm flashed out, catching their forearm in a vice-like grip that very nearly ripped their arm out of socket. Blanche stared down at them, the strain evident in their expression at the ship continued to climb up the wall of water.

‘ _She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams._ ’

“Don’t-” Blanche gasped, trembling with the effort it took to keep them anchored, “Don’t let go!”

“I-” Noire began, flinching when Blanche’s storm-soaked rope also began to fray, eyes wide even as another flash of lightning revealed the crest of the monstrous wave just moments before it crashed into the side of the ship. Their twin let out a harsh scream of agony, the motion jostling them as they held each other tightly.

The rope would not hold them both, Noire realized, a cold feeling dread washing over them as they dangled helplessly in the air. Accepting it as truth came easily, after that. They stared up at their twin, blinking the rain out of their eyes so they could take in all the details. Then, inhaling deeply, they reached up to tug the leather cord around their neck off before prying Blanche’s hand away from their forearm.

‘ _She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood._ ’

“Noire!” Blanche cried, struggling as best they could, the rope fraying further, “Stop! What are you doing?! You can’t-”

Noire pressed the pendant into their twin’s palm, an embossed raven and dove circling each other glittering in burnished gold, smiling bitterly up at them. “Live well, _mon petit chou_. If I could be so lucky, I would wish to be reborn with you again someday.”

Then, they let go.

“ _NOIRE!_ ”

‘ _She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam._ ’

They felt something break the moment their back hit the dark water below, paralyzed for a moment before the pain, before the panic, set in and they began to flail instinctively. Where was the surface? There was no light, no sound, only cold darkness all around them. Noire felt something brush against them and jerked away, able to make out the faint shape of a corpse drifting down alongside them.

Their vision blurred, saltwater stinging their eyes as they continued to look around wildly, heart hammering in their chest as they selfishly continued to search for even the smallest speck of light. They didn’t stop until their limbs refused to move, chest burning with spent breath. Their tears mixed with the water around them.

For all their sacrifice, they weren’t even sure Blanche would survive the storm long enough to hate them for it. A bitter hope flickered in their heart, the edges of their vision going darker still than the water around them, heart pounding in their chest and mind. It could almost be called a song, though the voice they thought they heard was not one that recognized.

They very nearly wished they could throw away their previous life and all their numerous mistakes so as to not be burdened by it in their last moments. Yet, in the same vein, they would not trade a single memory with their beloved twin, not even for all the riches in the world.

Noire closed their eyes, clutching their chest as the last of their air escaped their lips, and embraced death…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Not yet…_

The first sensation that returned to them was one of annoyance. A fitting choice, given their personality. Everything was too loud, too bright, and the urge to relocate the soothing dark silence from before was strong. They could hear the whooshing of something nearby, a soft, wet rustling, and there was a bothersome warmth blossoming, too hot, against their eyelids.

Something brushed against their foot, a cautious touch. They groaned, mumbling under their breath as they moved their leg up and away. There was a pause, then the touching continued, firmer this time and with more obvious curiosity.

“Amelie,” they growled, throat raw, “I swear to-”

“Who’s Amelie?”

Noire’s eyes shot up at the unfamiliar voice, quickly looking down their body to see an equally unfamiliar man who was currently messing with their feet. He met their eyes and smiled. They let out a loud shriek and kicked at him, scrambling back along the sand. There was a sharp pain in their palm as they scraped across some rocks, but they could care less. In fact, they grabbed a few and started chucking them in the stranger’s direction.

“Hey!” cried the blond, ducking away from the rocks, “Easy! I’m not gonna eat you!”

“Who are you?!” they demanded, hoisting a larger rock as they attempted to stand, “Where the fuck are we? Why do you… have a…”

“A tail?” the man supplied helpfully, lifting said tail out of the water so they could see it better. The day was obnoxiously bright (a striking contrast to the last scene of their memories), and the sunlight caught on the golden scales, making them glimmer and shine like freshly-minted coins.

The rock dropped out of their hand.

“It’s finally happened,” Noire murmured, weak legs falling out from underneath them, “I’ve finally lost all my senses.” They stared at the mermaid (merman?), tongue flicking out to moisten their lips when he threw his head back and laughed. It was a sonorous sound, bright with mirth, like water falling on crystal before echoing in a cave. Then he closed his mouth, the world fell into mundane silence once more, and Noire felt the sadness of a fading dream.

“You’re an interesting human,” he said, smiling at them, his sharp teeth also gleaming in the sunlight, “I’m glad I pulled you from that wreckage.”

“Wait, you did what now?” Noire asked, sitting straighter.

The merman looked at them like they were stupid. They didn’t appreciate that very much.

“I saw you and that other human dangling from that ship when the wave came,” he said, propping his chin up with a hand, his golden tail flicking as he spoke, “Then you let go. Man, was I surprised when you did that! I thought plunder-humans were supposed to be greedy!”

The first part of his statement made something tickle the back of their mind, but as they chased the thought, the memory, it slipped away. “Plunder-humans?” Noire mumbled, snorting and waving a hand, “Oh, you mean pirates. To be fair, I’m _incredibly_ greedy even by those standards.” Their lips turned up in a familiar smirk, pride they didn’t know they possessed filling them.

“Oh, really? But you sacrificed yourself for that other one that you’d been trying to stab a few moments before!”

“I…” The tickling came back, a grey white noise that consumed their thoughts and made their head throb, their eyes unfocusing briefly. When they shook themselves out of it, the merman was staring at them intensely. His blue eyes, blue as the sea, shone gold for a moment and he cocked his head.

“Oh,” he said simply, “Some spirit fucked you up good.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Noire snapped, spine rigid.

The merman’s lips twitched. “You were comparing something in your last moments, huh?” he said, voice lilting, almost a tease, “Someone must’ve heard you-”

‘ _… would not trade a single memory with their beloved twin, not even for all the riches in the world…_ ’

“-and decided to make a deal,” The merman blinked, waving his fingers at them, golden webbing connecting each clawed digit to its siblings. “A human life is greater than its weight in gold, or so I’ve been told. What you’ve traded away must’ve been incredibly important to you, though. Sorry for your loss, I guess?”

Sweat beaded on Noire’s brow, the chilled kind that usually only accompanied nightmares. They could feel it - a piece was missing from them. It was as though a huge chunk of their life, of their very soul, had been carved out and they were left with nothing but the barest hint of what it could’ve been. They struggled with the loss, clinging to the vague impressions on the periphery of their mind, but the practice did nothing but make their head swim.

They could recall some things - their crewmates, their personality traits, the fact they had been born poor and lived even poorer until the day they joined a pirate crew. But why had they joined the Jolly Rockets? Why had they done any of the things in their life? There was a _reason_ for them becoming a sea scourge, they just knew it, and it had _something_ to do with—

A smile– a laugh– a _name–_ an emotion so strong and twisted it wrenched a sob from their throat. But, just as quickly as they felt it, as they stood on the precipice of remembering, everything slipped through their fingers like sand being stolen by the tide.

They were suddenly very aware of the huge, gaping hole in their life, the edges of which were sharp enough to cut them to the core.

“Fuck,” they said eloquently, clutching their head, “ _Fuck!_ ”

“Go on, let it all out,” the merman said blithely, eyes half closed as he made himself comfortable on the sand, looking all the world like he intended to waste the day away sunbathing in that very spot, “I’ll be here when you’re done throwing a hissy fit.” He even yawned, pointed teeth flashing brightly before he smothered the noise with a hand.

They opened their eyes and glared at him, pointing a finger angrily. “You!” they said, all but crawling toward him, “You are going to help me remember!”

“And why should I do that?” he said, shifting slightly as they approached.

Noire floundered for a moment then rallied. “I’m interesting, remember?” they said, waving a hand, “But not _half_ as interesting as I was when I had all my memories.” The merman perked up at that, and they smothered a wry grin. They had a hook, now it was time to reel him in (and, yes, the puns were absolutely necessary). “From what little I can recall, I was pretty great.”

“Yeah?” he said, tilting his head. “How great?”

“The kind of greatness that gets put into books and sent all over the world!” they exclaimed, “I’ll bet stories of me and my crew have been translated into hundreds of languages by now!”

“Hey, wait, I know that word!” the merman said, sitting up with a bright smile, “‘Books’! I’ve heard about those, but I’ve never actually seen any before. They don’t fare too well in the ocean, I guess. You humans put your stories in them, right?”

Noire blinked at him dumbly. “Well,” they said, bemused, “Yes.”

“And you can read them? Books, I mean.”

“Do I look like an idiot?” they snapped, continuing before he could reply, “ _Yes_ , I can read. I’ve read tons of stories over the years.” A memory - or, rather, the lack of one - teased them for a moment, and they were left with the vaguest impression of a small fire crackling in a dusty place.

“Great!” he said, scooting over to flop the majority of his human half into their lap, “Tell me a story, human.”

“My name is Noire,” they said, shoving him, surprised by how cool and heavy he turned out to be, “And get the fuck off of me!”

The merman pouted up at them and threw his arms around their waist like a clingy child. “Aw, come on, Noire!” he whined, tail flinging water onto them both as he wiggled in dissatisfaction, “I wanna hear some humantales! None of my friends ever get anything good from the sailors on the docks - only stuff about how difficult it is to fuck females when they wear so many ‘petticoats’ and ‘corsets’.”

Noire grimaced, angry barb dying on their tongue as a thought occurred. “Okay, I’ll tell you a couple of stories-”

“Yay!”

“ _If_ you agree to help me get my memories back. You can, right?”

He studied them for a moment, a true frown marring his features. “Well, yeah, I can get them back. Might take a bit to track down the spirit that took ‘em, but… why do you want them back so bad?” he asked, brows furrowed, “Maybe you’re better off without them.”

“ _No._ ” The word slipped out without a thought, but it was the conviction that startled them both. Noire cleared their throat and continued. “No, I think… I think I want to be whole again. I want to find my other half.” An image surfaced in their mind, hazy and disjointed, but they thought they could make out the figures of two birds circling each other.

The merman looked up at them curiously, tail flicking lazily in the surf. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated, “I’ll help you get your precious memories back.” He tugged himself further into their lap, sprawling over them in an outrageously inappropriate amount of familiarity. “But your stories better include me in them. I want a star role!”

“Wait, I thought you wanted, uh, humantales.”

He waved a hand, getting comfortable. “I changed my mind! I don’t want to know about your life in bits and pieces - you can tell me about _that_ when we get you memories back. For now, tell me a story.”

“A story for my memories,” they mumbled, letting out a soft huff, “Somehow that doesn’t seem entirely fair, but I’m not going to complain.”

“Some things have more worth to other people,” the merman pointed out.

They grunted and looked out across the shimmering waves, noting three islands off in the distance, large blobs on the horizon, each with a distinct shape. Glancing up, they saw seabirds cawing and fluttering about, feathers gleaming in the sunlight as they danced in the sky. There were legends about birds, just as there were tales about islands. Their lips twitched, recalling and combining bits and pieces of they could only half-remember, stitching them into a narrative.

“Okay,” Noire said, “I have your story: Do you see those islands over in that direction? Yes, those three. It’s said that three great birds live there, each with their own element that, if left untamed, would run rampant with destruction and the world would turn to ash. But, don’t be afraid. The birds listen to a master, a guardian bathed in silver moonlight that rules the oceans of this world. It’s said the guardian’s song soothes the souls of all who hear it, and quells the fighting of the three birds who, at their core, wish to rule the world as their own. This, my scaled friend, is the story of four idiots the somehow got tangled up in this ancient mess…”


End file.
